The Faded Frontier
The ledger in Elias Thorne’s hand weighed exactly four pounds, three ounces, and a feeling of finality that settled into his knuckles like damp cold. He was fifty-two years old, a border constable for thirty years, and he had spent the last decade trying to erase the stain of his brother’s death from the very walls of the house he now intended to sell. The autumn rains had not yet broken, but...
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